Partners in Supply Closets
by lieselmemingersthievery
Summary: There's a pesky light bulb that's right above his desk. Light bulbs always lead to bright ideas.


_Author's Note:_

 _I think I'll stop doing these the day that I die. I always like to keep readers informed on my thoughts and feelings during writing these things. This is my first Law and Order: SVU one-shot/fanfiction. I honestly don't know if this will build on or just stay where it is. It is to be determined._

 _I love love LOVE Nick Amaro. Let me get that straight to anyone I've never stated it to; he's such a cute, sweetheart that I love too much. He's got a temper, he can get down to the raw emotions that he needs to so he can understand someone, he's got intuition. I love him so much. I ship him with Olivia Benson over Amanda Rollins. (I also ship Olivia Benson with Elliot Stabler because I know better than to think she didn't love him and be able to look at him like she did.) I always thought that while Rollins was his opposite and opposites can attract, she can bring the worst out of him and it just made me hate their interactions together. He was still so protective over Rollins, despite knowing she got him more hot-headed than anyone else on the team could._

 _Benson and Amaro had a fantastic chemistry. They could talk to each other, be angry with each other; he was the only one to treat her the same way when she came back from the Lewis kidnapping. He knew she would want that. And that instinct that he had made them such good partners. And while she and Detective Stabler were good partners and I will never forget them, Benson and Amaro were just as iconic. Like some of the looks exchanged are so MHMM. So enjoy their partnership and trust in each other in this story. It was inspired by the fact that I can't find any stories between them._

* * *

Flickering lights hung above their freshly polished desks, something that Nick cursed under his breath. _Does no one know how to change a light bulb?_

He finally stood up, his fingers lifting to his temples in frustration. Just the sound was about to drive him over the deep end; he knew he needed to take the edge off, especially after such a big case. They'd finally found the perpetrator, but it had taken four deaths to do it. Even if he was used to women and men coming in, beaten bloody, nothing could get him used to the aftermath following those kinds of cases. The nightmares, the way his blood always seemed to boil when he had to pass the men and women he'd convicted in the jail cells; it had been this driving force towards his anger.

He walked to the supply closet, opening the door and being met with the sight of Olivia, her forehead pressed into the metal. She was making sounds, sounds that were demented, inhuman in every single form; even though he couldn't pinpoint the same way that he'd heard the similar sound, he found himself moving into the closet and closing the door behind him. "Benson."

The tone had been comforting but it hadn't stopped her from pulling her head away from the shelf and looking at him with wild eyes. And he knew from those eyes that she was reliving every moment that she'd been held captive by Lewis, more specifically the second time. She'd been forced to watch when Lewis had tried to make another victim and adding onto the pile of her PTSD. The forced game of Russian roulette while a girl was hanging right next to them.

"Amaro. Amaro, partner, divorced, kids: Zara and Gilberto, 0840." She was listing things. It was as the therapist had told him to do whenever he went through a panic attack and couldn't remember every detail about where he was. He was sure to keep his distance so that she could piece together the fact that he was there to help rather than to hurt her like Lewis had.

He looked into her eyes, directly, his hands now moving to her shoulders in a form of comfort. He saw the peace she made with it, not rejecting him but not accepting him either. "You're not there anymore. You're here, in the supply closet." His chocolate, brown pools seemed to soften, even if his tone was firm; he needed her to trust him. "With me."

She nodded, looking away and to the shelves, like they offered more comfort than he could. He was sure she preferred it; she always wanted to be more angry than hurt and the shelves meant the security in the sense that she could still keep up the strong front. He knew that front all too well. He couldn't relate to half the horrible things she had been through, but he knew that when his wife had left him, when he'd been shot, it had been all too easy to let the anger wash over him, just as it had been when he was sitting at his desk.

His thumbs rubbed her shoulders and he felt her falling apart again, though it was in a different way than it had been. Her knees seemed to give out, his arms moving under her own arms to keep her from hitting the floor with her head. He had gone down in the process, her body being over his lap rather than curled up on the floor next to him. His hand moved up to the door knob, peeking out to make sure that no one had heard them or the fall. When he closed the door, he felt the struggle begin, her elbow going right into his ribs and knocking the wind out of his lungs.

He held onto his ribs, his eyes closing as the weight moved off of him; his eyes opened again and he saw that she'd turned around to put her own weight on her knees and had a gun pointed between his brows. He held one hand up as he leaned against the door, his eyes suddenly weary. He had always known she'd hit hard from occasional and mandatory sparring, but it hurt each time. "Liv, it's me; it's Amaro." His voice seemed to be deflated, and the cough following only reinforced the idea. "You're safe. You were about to hit the floor."

The heaviness of her breathing slowed, her pupils becoming more focused before she nodded and put the gun back on her hip. She sat against the door now, her hands moving to her temples and her elbows resting on her knees. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to point a gun at you."

Nick chuckled softly, as if it were nothing, shaking his head slowly. "You've stopped me from doing worse. We'll call it even." It was true; while he could trust just about anyone and everyone on the squad, no one brought his temper under check and control like Olivia did. (Of course, Amanda was just the opposite, spiking up his anger to about one thousand by pushing him persistently.)

They sat there in silence for a few moments before they met each other's eyes, a small but still awkward smile being exchanged between the two of them. She spoke up first, her hands running through her hair as she spoke. "You know, if anyone else had caught me in here, they would've made a scene about it. Would've told Finn and whoever else they could find to know they should back off. Like I wouldn't be able to handle the rest of the day because of one incident. Why didn't you?"

"First off, I know I would be dead the second I said something. I may be a man but you're terrifying." There was a laugh shared between them before he sighed and relaxed, looking down to the floor. "And I remember what it was like. When Maria and I separated, everyone seemed to back up or pay more attention to how they would handle situations where I was more prone to explode. And granted, I have a huge temper, but them treating me different, like I was ready to burst at any second, made it all that much worse. It angered me more than if I just went about my job like I usually did."

She nodded, her brown eyes boring into his own. There was silence before she cleared her throat, her hand moving to squeeze his arm gently. "Thank you. For not looking at me different." He'd opened his mouth to say something, but she held a hand up to stop him. "I've seen the way they look at me. And I'm glad that they're concerned. It means they care. But I know that you don't look at me any different than you did then. And that means more to me than their concern does."

Nick placed his hand over hers, his fingers curling around hers for just a moment before they were released, patting the top of her hand. He stood up, offering his hand to her and pulling her up when she took it. He peeked outside the door, seeing Finn and Rollins at the end of the hall. "Wanna mess with the team?"

"You really think we can manage that?"

"I think they'll buy it better than we think." He pulled out half of his shirt in the front, crumpling his shirt messily and motioning for her to do the same. She did so, opening up a button extra at the top, and ruffling up her hair a bit. He messed up the sides of his hair and put his hand on the door, giving her a smirk. "Ready?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow, her eyes giving off a hint of mischief. "Ready for you to get your ass kicked by both of them? Definitely ready."

He rolled his eyes, opening the door and tossing a grin to Olivia as he went. "Thanks for that, Benson," he said slightly louder than normal, finding her hands on his shoulders and attempting to straighten out the newly made wrinkles. There was the sound of a cleared throat and the two found their space, his teeth sinking into his cheek to keep back the laughter about to escape his lips.

"Just make sure to clean up after yourselves, Benson and Amaro. No one likes a messy supply closet," Finn emphasized, shaking his head with disappointment. Rollins followed and the remaining pair straightened up their clothes, sharing a smirk.

"I think they bought it," Benson said after a little while, nudging him and then walking down the hall.

Nick crossed his arms across his chest, following right on her heels. "Yeah, well, I think there's more where that came from."


End file.
